


the future's in our hands

by burningdarkfire



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Episode 122, Hate Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Past Character Death, Tail Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningdarkfire/pseuds/burningdarkfire
Summary: A storm in Eiselcross forces the Mighty Nein and the Tomb Takers to shelter in Widogast's Nascent Nein-Sided Tower until it is over.  Lucien takes a special interest in Caleb, and Caleb takes advantage.Set after Episode 122 but works back into Episode 123.  80% character exploration, 20% porn.
Relationships: Astrid & Caleb Widogast, Lucien/Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 52
Kudos: 142





	1. [DAY ONE]

**Author's Note:**

> I've watched Critical Role happily but passively for nearly three years. After watching episode 124, I've finally decided to go feral for Caleb Widogast. 
> 
> Porn will be Chapter 6 if that's what you're here for. Title is from [Bastille - Things We Lost In The Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGR4U7W1dZU).

The day started tense and did not improve much from there. 

While the rest of the party fretted, he and Beau locked eyes. An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them. They would get through this together. There would be no regrets. Neither of them wanted to admit to a small feeling of excitement, but they would know to check each other.

After everyone had gathered themselves for a new day, they floated downstairs to the dining hall together. As they approached, Caduceus held up a hand – listening carefully, the rest of the party was able to hear the murmur of conversation already taking place and readied themselves for what they might find.

Fjord pushed open the door. The Tomb Takers all looked up from where they were already seated at the table. 

“Good morning!” Lucien greeted them cheerily. He had his boots propped up on the table as he reclined in his seat. “Did you all sleep well?”

The Nein chorused their responses: “Good, great, very well, thank you.”

If Lucien suspected anything, he gave no hint. Instead, he gestured at the plates of fruit and pastries that were already heaped on the table. Tyffial stood to scoop a small heap of berries onto her plate.

“Glad to see everyone has made themselves at home,” Caleb said flatly. He looked pointedly at Lucien’s boots. Cree barely suppressed a roll of her eyes as the tabaxi helped herself to some elaborately sugared apple turnover.

Veth plopped herself on the bench next to Otis and quickly busied herself with pestering him. As her annoying but harmless prattle filled the air, the Nein approached the table.

Jester called a cat to confirm if there were any chocolate chip muffins this morning. “Sometimes they look like way too much like raisins!”

Caleb sat next to Lucien, giving a polite nod – a minimum effort at still playing at the role of host. 

He had buttered a roll and taken his first bite when Lucien leaned and whispered coyly, “I promise I was a good boy last night.”

Caleb chewed carefully. A steady and peaceful murmur of conversation was running across the table. 

He matched Lucien’s tone, keeping his voice even and his eyes on his breakfast. “I trust that you and your companions rested well, then.”

“This place, this tower, is very impressive.” Lucien’s purple tail flicked and curled up around Caleb’s arm. His tail was warm – Caleb had already learned from Mollymauk that a tiefling was several degrees warmer than a human body. The tail’s spade tip rested on his forearm like a flattering hand. “I could get used to this.”

“I hope we can understand that good behaviour goes both ways. Then we can all rest a little easier in nights to come.” 

Caleb stood to grab an apple, forcing Lucien to release his arm or be unceremoniously yanked along, and ignored the tiefling’s smug, satisfied smirk as he unwound his tail and leaned back into his own space.

* * *

After breakfast, Caleb threw open the door of the tower to a dim, static gray. Yesterday’s snowstorm had continued with a vengeance and the horizon was hidden behind a constant flurry of snow. 

Beau took one look out at the dreary landscape and shook her head. “No way am I spending another day running around in a circle.”

Caduceus chuckled but wisely stayed otherwise silent. Grumbles ran through the Tomb Takers at the insult, but their lack of enthusiasm quickly also became clear as they made no move to go through the door.

Lucien pressed his lips into a thin smile. “Did I mention I hate this place?”

* * *

Lucien declared he was going to make the best of a bad situation and shepherded his team back into the guest bedroom to catch up on rest while waiting out the storm. With a wink, he promised to stay out of trouble.

The Nein gathered in Jester’s room, putting an extra floor of separation between them and the Tomb Takers. They were conceivably to do the same as the Tomb Takers and head back to bed, but inevitably their conversation circled back to their plans.

At a gesture from Caleb, Greta and Toto strolled off to keep an eye on Lucien and his group. Another seven cats converged around the room and started singing Zemnian choral music.

“Looks clear.” Fjord finished inspecting the room for scrying orbs and everyone relaxed marginally.

“It’s not fair,” Jester muttered. “This is Caleb’s tower, but we are the ones who have to hide and be scared.”

“Yes,” Caleb said softly. “I am sorry about that. This tower was meant to be a place of safety, but it has been compromised.”

“Offering your hospitality was the right thing to do.” Caduceus’s words are met with vocal agreement from the rest of the group. “In addition to being kind, it was an offer to genuinely work together.”

“And I’d rather be terrified of him in here than out there,” Fjord joked.

“I still think there could be tactical advantages to fighting in the tower.” Beau leaned forward, as Fjord started nodding his head beside her. “You mentioned adding locks? Traps?”

“Can’t he dispel it all?”

And with that, the conversation quickly took a turn for the familiar. They’d been grappling with the same questions since they had realized the Tomb Takers were in Eiselcross with them. 

Should they stay, go, or fight? Should they try to see this through and interrupt at a critical moment? Should they try to run? Should they get rid of the crest somehow to slow the Tomb Takers’ plans down? What could they meaningfully do with some extra time if they’re not committed to stopping them entirely? Should they try to fight and put an end to the Tomb Takers’ machinations once and for all? But what if Molly was still in there? Even if Molly was still there, could they save him? What if killing Lucien was the best way to get Molly back? What if killing Lucien meant killing Molly, again, for good?

Yasha and Jester were always the most ardent in their pleas to try and find a way to revive their friend. Veth was hard to read, often diffusing the situation with jokes, and Caduceus was always quietly sympathetic but stern when they started talking about Molly. Caleb, Beau, and Fjord were firm in their stance that Molly was dead, and even if there was some obscure arcane way to bring him back, there was no time to research or pray. 

Beau in particular was always vocal and angry in her grief. “We buried Molly, we mourned him. He changed our lives when we were together! We won’t forget him – we can’t – but Lucien will cause innumerable death and destruction if allowed to succeed. We have to do something.”

“We still have a little time,” Yasha countered. “If it comes down to it – I would understand if – “

Everyone else fell into a glum silence as her words faded. This was the usual conclusion of these hushed planning sessions. They always felt like they had too little information, too little leverage, and too little conviction. But they all knew that if the world seemed to genuinely be in danger, they would have to do what was necessary.

Kill a friend to save the world. Kill your parents to save the Empire. It was all familiar to Caleb, in the end.

* * *

Lunch was a subdued affair, especially with some members of each group still rubbing the sleepiness of a morning nap out of their eyes. The Tomb Takers didn’t seem interested in starting any conflicts and confined themselves again to their room after the meal. 

A check-in with Greta and Toto confirmed that their guests were, at the very least, taking pains to not appear suspicious. Most of them had spent the morning napping or tending to their equipment. Any conversations they had amongst themselves were trivial, surface-level chatter. Lucien spent long periods of time lying very still in bed, although all his eyes stayed open and he looked awake.

With the two groups seemingly in agreement that they were going to see this through to the ruins of Aeor, the Mighty Nein cautiously spread across the tower to spend their afternoons as they wished. 

Caleb first visited his own bedroom and inspected it to see if anything was disturbed. Although all their rooms should have been magically protected against intrusion, it was clear that Lucien had powers far beyond their comprehension, and each of his friends were likely doing the same.

A memory of Jester calling his quarters boring rose to his mind, unbidden.

“At least it makes it easier to spot things that are out of place,” Caleb murmured to himself, fighting back a small smile. 

After a thorough inspection, Caleb stepped back out to the center of the tower and floated down to the library. He spent some time gathering a few books and then sat by the fireplace. The stained glass that was reminiscent of Molly’s coat loomed over him.

Beau arrived, her notebook already in her hand, and grinned. “Are you reading telepathically now?” 

Caleb gave her an impatient look as she slid into the seat next to him. “I have already read these. I have read every book in this library.”

“So am I here to play catch up or just because you think I’d enjoy the library ambiance?” 

“It’s the ambiance. I’m sure that if you read all of these, you will have all the exact same thoughts I had in the exact same order. There’s no possibility of you giving a new perspective.”

“Point taken.” Beau grabbed the books and slid them closer to her. “I guess I’ll start on these.”

They worked for the rest of the afternoon. Beau read over several of Caleb’s old books in history and on magic. Caleb made his way patiently through Beau’s notes, which were meticulously taken but messy and full of scratches. When nothing new jumped out at them from their existing pool of knowledge, they started compiling a list of new questions to ask the Cobalt Soul.

“The Traveler’s cult was easier to figure out,” Beau grumbled, “and not just because we have Jester. At least the Traveler’s cult was actively recruiting. It sounds like the Tomb Takers basically popped out fully converted from the Claret Orders. How do they believe so deeply in Lucien?”

“He is charismatic.” Caleb spun a pencil in his fingers. “He is a bully, an asshole, and an egoist to rival kings or prophets, but he is also charismatic.”

“His bullshit doesn’t work on me,” Beau muttered. When Caleb didn’t say anything, she raised an eyebrow at him. “And it doesn’t work on you.”

“Of course not.” Caleb smoothed the pages of his book open. “He is evil and full of shit. Anyone can see that.”

* * *

Their mood was significantly worse by the time they joined the others in the entry way before dinner. The Tomb Takers floated down as a group, and they all looked out again at the unrelenting snow as Caleb threw the door open.

“I’ll be quick,” Caleb promised. “But the Tower does need to be recast.”

“Stay close,” Fjord instructed, and everyone paid him heed as they stepped into the howling winds outside. They huddled in the landscape – already unrecognizable from a day before, there was so much snow – and then all hurried back into the tower once Caleb finished his incantation, shaking white flakes from their clothes and hair.

When Caleb caught Lucien’s eye, the purple tiefling gave him a huge grin. “Another night together, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters are already complete and will be uploaded as I edit. And yes, this is essentially a lockdown fic. 
> 
> Fair warning: Caleb Widogast is my favourite character. I think he is manipulative, hubristic, and hypocritical to a fault, and I think he fails to be entirely self-aware exactly because of how far he's come into his redemption. I would describe a lot of this fic as toxic (and not only from Lucien). Just keep that in mind, please, if you read. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. [DAY TWO]

When they peered out the door the next morning to a still-unrelenting snowstorm, they all shared grim looks. Lucien’s tail lashed in frustration, although he kept a smile plastered to his face.

“Bad luck, I suppose,” he said. 

“Or divine intervention,” Caduceus suggested serenely. “Although I’m not sure for whom.”

Lucien snorted. “Well, we were set back for two years. A few more days won’t hurt.” The rest of Tomb Takers murmured agreement.

Yasha crossed her arms. “Those were your best two years.”

Lucien gave a little huff. “They weren’t _my_ years. And besides, we’re all working together now, aren’t we? Our goals are your goals. Or should we be afraid of swords and daggers penetrating us as we sleep?”

Each of Lucien’s visible eyes was staring down an individual member of the Nein. 

“The Great Hall on the second floor has nine rooms,” Caleb said mildly, offering an olive branch. “Each room can be adapted to suit what you require. Since it looks like we will be spending much more time in here together after all.”

* * *

When Engel came meowing for his attention, Caleb hurried from the library. He flung upon the door in the Great Hall indicated by the bushy tail and immediately heard Beau shout in frustration.

Yasha was on her back, her feet seemingly swept out from under her. Tyffial stood above her, a wooden practice sword in her hands. Beau, Otis, and Zoran were standing around a raised platform as they fought. Yasha rolled towards Tyffial, bringing the elf down with her when she failed to step out of the way quickly enough, eliciting a loud cheer from Beau and a groan from Zoran.

“Sparring,” Fjord told Caleb from his position closest to the door. “Unsurprisingly, it was Beau’s idea.”

Caduceus tapped his staff from beside Fjord. “Thought I’d hang out in case anything escalated.”

Caleb saw that the walls of the room were sparsely decorated except for racks of weapons. Many were wooden or padded, but he saw a few glint under the lights. Further back than the sparring platform were some training dummies and further still what looked to be some shooting ranges.

“Beau looks like she’s enjoying it,” Caleb commented wryly as Yasha and Tyffial grappled on the ground, their wooden swords abandoned on the side of the platform. A flurry of blows led to a string of colourful commentary from Beau and Otis, who seemed to be warming up to the show.

“This is good for teambuilding,” Caduceus said pleasantly. 

“It’s good to put our energies somewhere,” Fjord agreed. “And I could probably punch Lucien a few times myself.”

“I can’t imagine him doing something like sparring.” Caleb thought Lucien seemed too haughty to be made a spectacle of, to roll around in sweat and dust.

“No, but I can dream,” Fjord grinned. “Honestly I think I still owe Molly a friendly punch or two. I was kicked out of my own room a couple times too many.”

Caleb smiled. “I’ll leave the punching to you all. Engel will stay and let me know if anything gets out of hand.” 

The cat dutifully moved to stand beside Fjord. Fjord immediately skittered away. 

Caleb called out to Beau and Yasha as he left: “Don’t go easy on them!”


	3. [DAY THREE]

“This is your signature, I suppose.” 

Lucien trailed his fingers along the spines of the books at chest level as he strode towards where Caleb was sitting, again in front of the library’s fireplace. “A room full of books, so many books, for a man who loves nothing more.”

“I love many things and people more.” Caleb looked up at Lucien. “I like reading, that’s true, and learning, but these things are important to me because they are in service of the people I love and the betterment of the world.”

Lucien sat himself down beside Caleb in a fluid motion and immediately leaned into his space, unsubtly trying to read what he was working on.

It really was like dealing with a version of Mollymauk turned toxic, Caleb thought as he felt Lucien’s tail curl behind him, its presence blatantly letting him know that Lucien did not want him to leave. Less flamboyant, his face and horns much more plain than Molly had kept himself, but Lucien had Molly’s unrelenting confidence and unabashed mannerisms turned into corrosive entitlement.

Caleb had been, at some point in his life, very much used to keeping himself small and not shining too brightly. Lucien moved and acted like he always expected to be seen, and not only seen, but listened to, and heard, and respected. Molly thought such things would go both ways; Lucien saw it as his right alone.

Lucien smiled as Caleb covered his notes and turned away from him. “That’s alright. That’s not why I came here.”

Caleb suspected Lucien had simply read enough of the page he was looking at to decide it wasn’t a problem – or he had been watching him all along through their now-matching shoulder eyes.

“Then why did you come?”

“Well, I don’t have a particular trust of mages, as you know. But this,” Lucien gestured around them, “Magic of this level and intricacy is something that could be very useful for me in the future. And from my understanding, you have achieved it mostly through self-study.”

“I’m not going to work for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Lucien smiled broadly. “I didn’t ask. But I _am_ taking an interest in you. The half-orc, I can see, is your little group’s leader. He’s no particular genius, and I see none of you hesitate for a second to challenge him, but he has the charisma to make you all follow him –”

“He does not make us,” Caleb said shortly. “We choose to. We have been choosing to for a long time now. Fjord has come a long way, as have we all, together. He sought to remake himself and succeeded, and since I have known him, I have seen him turn his back on evil, over and over, even when it may offer him more power or security. If he had accepted those offers, I’m sure you would be sitting by his side and complimenting his talents.”

Lucien smiled. “But he’s also handsome, isn’t he? And he did not accept those offers, so now _you_ are the particular genius of the group, are you not? And yet you are sentimentally playing house –”

“Better to use my _genius_ ,” Caleb spat the word, “to build my house and shelter my family than to burn them. You cannot flatter me, Lucien. I have no interest in being told I am special anymore.”

Lucien spent a few long, silent moments studying Caleb’s face, as serious and thoughtful as Caleb had ever seen him.

Finally, Lucien stood and gave a cursory bow of his head. “Let’s talk again soon.” 

He clasped his hand on Caleb’s shoulder – perhaps an ordinary gesture but Caleb was sure Lucien must be feeling the eye through the fabric – and trailed his tail across Caleb’s back as he turned to leave. With only a thin shirt on, the invasive touch felt like a hot brand against his skin.

Lucien hummed as he left, the tune of Zemnian choir music floating through the empty library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every hit, bookmark, comment, kudos, etc - thank you!!


	4. [DAY FOUR]

“I’m sick of not being productive,” Beau said, watching two cats carrying in a heaping plate of roast boar.

“We might not be moving, but at least the Tomb Takers aren’t either. And it’s good to keep an eye on them like this.” Fjord peered curiously at the apple in the boar’s jaw, which didn’t quite have the shine of the regular fruit. “Is that a cake?”

Jester’s gasps of delight at the cake-apple carried them through the arrival of the Tomb Takers to dinner. There was a cautious familiarity between the two groups now, as they had been forced into these close quarters for days with no sign of the storm outside easing. Even Veth’s charades at saying grace before eating had nearly taken on a comforting feeling of ritual.

Their dinner was, like the past few days, largely uneventful. Caduceus shared more stories about his family home in the Savalirwood. Cree continued to avoid any and all questions about her past. Yasha and Beau made faces at each other whenever Lucien said anything particularly haughty. 

Lucien himself stayed upbeat despite a new bruise that was flowering on his cheek, the result of a sparring bout with Beau today that had surprised half the Nein and raised suspicion in the other half. He had shaken off the attempts of both Cree and Caduceus to attend to the mark.

“He was definitely pulling his punches,” Beau said later, once the Tomb Takers had retired to their room for the night. The Nein were clustered in a soundproof, unscryable room off the Great Hall – whether it worked or not would remain to be seen. “Or he was just too concerned with not messing up his hair. But there’s no way he actually fights like that and killed Vess DeRogna. He’s definitely up to something.”

“He might have just dispelled her attempts at magic,” Veth said thoughtfully. “I mean, look at Caleb! He wouldn’t win a fist fight against you without magic either.”

Beau flexed. “I guess that’s true.” 

Caleb pointed at her hand. “And you’re sure he hasn’t seen?”

“I’m sure.” Beau made a fist again and held it up, showing how the eye was covered by the wrappings around her hands. “He didn’t say anything about it. He did mention my tattoo today, though, the one on the back of my neck. I told him it was based off of Molly’s tattoos – I mean, when we thought the eyes were just tattoos.”

“I bet he didn’t like that,” Jester said. She had joined the sparring yesterday but had sat out again today. “He doesn’t like hearing about things like Molly’s tattoos.”

“He thinks Mollymauk was frivolous and overall a fool to never discover his – Lucien’s – their body’s greater chosen purpose.” Caleb grasped his own shoulder, where the eye was. “It probably annoys him that he has tattoos at all, and it bothers him additionally that you dedicated a tattoo after his own. You made meaning out of something he considers meaningless.”

They were all quiet for a moment. 

“Isn’t that the point, though? Of Molly?” Beau said roughly. “I don’t know that anything mattered to him, and because nothing mattered, everything did.”

“He was simple,” Caleb said. “And that meant he had great clarity.”

He caught Fjord and Caduceus sharing a glance. 

At this point, Caleb did not doubt that his friends loved him. But he also knew that some of his behaviours were still seen as obsessive, unhealthy, and laden with the potential to harm. That was fine with him. He would not have shared the eighth floor with his friends if he thought they would make a problem of it.

It was an inescapable truth that Caleb did not have the ease or joy that Mollymauk had. Caleb had breathed too much ash in his life to ever reflect the sun so cleanly. 

“Has anyone else had any weird interactions with Lucien?” Veth asked, head swivelling to look at each of her friends. Caleb had told them briefly about yesterday’s encounter in the library. “Has he started brewing tea with you, Caduceus, or asked you to carry him, Yasha?”

Everyone else shook their head. Caleb and Beau looked at each other grimly.

“Well, it could still be coincidence,” Fjord said doubtfully. 

“Tomorrow he could ask to hang out with me,” Jester chirped. “Oh! Maybe I should talk to him and ask if he wants to pet Sprinkle? He’s been looking really good these days since we’ve been so calm and relaxed inside the Tower.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Fjord agreed, chuckling, and Caleb saw Jester brighten at his acquiescence.

“I can’t believe Dagen said these storms could last for weeks,” Beau groaned. “It’s a lovely tower Caleb, but I’m going nuts just sitting around inside. I like your giant library and my bedroom and making a magic sparring room appear but I also like, you know, walking outside on my way to a destination.”

“We can still try Divine Interventions or Communes to help with the weather or at least figure out when it might end,” Caduceus reminded everyone. “But I think we’re agreed we prefer to wait.”

“More time to think, to plan, to send messages,” Caleb murmured in agreement. “Who do we have on the list today?”

“We should message Essek again,” Jester said, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath as she got ready. “What do we want to ask?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything for an ongoing series in so long that I forgot what it was like to watch an episode with extreme anxiety because you didn't want this new fresh canon to throw off anything in your fic! I'm going to push the rest of this out ASAP so that I can relax lol


	5. [DAY FIVE]

Caleb was floating in the central pillar, looking at the door to the Tomb Takers’ room, when Lucien stepped out and looked up at him curiously.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?”

“I was thinking of expanding to give you and your people more room,” Caleb said. “You have all been very good boys and girls these past few days.”

Lucien smiled. “I think Cree might have a fit if she sees an even softer bed.”

“Did she at least try it? Yasha was the same way at first.” Caleb floated to the landing to stand next to Lucien. “I keep these things in mind. There have been many changes to the Tower since we all starting staying here.”

“I noticed the drapes around my bed have stayed the same,” Lucien said lightly. “And they are the same as the stained glass window in the library. A tribute to your friend, I suppose?”

Caleb inclined his head. “The window, at least, has always been there.”

“And the drapes are, for what? In hopes that if I look at the same garish patterns over and over I will spontaneously relinquish control of my body?”

Caleb shrugged. “Maybe I’m just sentimental.”

“There’s no maybe about it, my dear wizard. I’ve seen into some of your rooms, and it could not be more clear how sappy you are.”

“There is no shame in feeling and showing a great deal of love for my friends,” Caleb said mildly. “You might consider doing the same for yours.”

Lucien beckoned Caleb with his tail. “Come. Let’s try something.”

The Tomb Takers’ room was empty of any other members and Lucien hopped easily onto his bed, reaching for the colourful drapes. He slashed them easily with his claws and threw them over his shoulders.

“How’s this?” Lucien asked, giving a twirl like a child playing dress-up with a cape. “Just like having your old friend back?”

Caleb did not reply. It went without saying that of course Lucien looked nearly exactly like Molly, especially with the familiar patterns draped over his back and shoulders. He knew how to flash a smile and turn on the charm when it suited him, sure, but Lucien was cruel with the same ease that Molly was kind. 

Caleb suspected that part of this was natural to his persona – Cree and the rest of the Tomb Takers all genuinely seemed to believe in him, after all – but at least some of it was meant specifically to disarm the Nein, to prod at their fondness for whatever piece of Lucien’s soul had previously occupied his body, and to use it against them.

And it worked, despite Caleb’s best efforts. He knew that Lucien was toxic, manipulative, and abusive. But it was impossible not to see the flashes of Molly that peeked through as Lucien bounced up and down on the bed, trying to put on a show. 

Mollymauk, who had been open, empty, and unburdened by past, present, or future.

As his silence dragged on, Lucien grinned at him wider, showing fangs. “If I dressed like this clown for a few days, would you consider my offer to join us?”

“Mollymauk cared about leaving the world better than he found it. You seek to destroy it.”

Lucien sighed. “I know you agree that knowledge from the Age of Arcanum has immense possibility to change our world for the better. Why do you hesitate?”

“Share it, then.” Caleb moved closer to the bed. “If you want me to join you, truly, then I need to be able to make an informed decision. You cannot promise knowledge but then keep it only for yourself. We saw your book only once, yet you have stayed in this Tower now for many days.”

Lucien hopped off the bed and stood in front of Caleb, his smile gone. He pressed a pointed claw to Caleb’s shoulder, applying a slight pressure to the hidden eye. 

“You know I could dispel this tower if I chose to,” Lucien said. His tone was low but far from gentle. “I am doing us all a favour. It would be a shame to lose this beautiful place, wouldn’t it? If your friends all froze to death outside because you didn’t want to behave?”

“You and your friends would no longer have access to the Tower either.” Even as he said it, Caleb was already sure it was a futile argument.

Lucien slid his hand up to fully grasp Caleb’s shoulder and squeezed, his claws digging deep enough to cause pinpricks of pain. “My friends have faith in me to do what’s best for them. Can you say the same?”

“I trust them.” Caleb ignored Lucien’s hand. The pain was nothing to him. “And they would say the same.”

Lucien smiled and moved his hand up to cup Caleb’s cheek, heat radiating from his palm. “Then bring them into the fold. Tell them what glory we seek.”

Caleb used his own hand to cover Lucien’s and squeezed. “It is not glory that we seek. It has never been glory. And that is the difference between you and us, between you and Mollymauk.” His voice was soft but steely. “That is what I would tell them.”

Lucien gave an ugly snarl and ripped his hand away, leaving four stinging scratches down Caleb’s cheek. 

“You say your friends keep faith in you,” Caleb said coldly. Blood trickled down his face. “I am sure that Cree, at least, loves you. You should do better by them.”

“Get out.” Lucien turned his back to Caleb, lashing his tail across Caleb’s thighs like a stinging rebuke. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The eye on his neck stared unblinkingly at Caleb until he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I appreciate every hit, bookmark, comment, kudos, etc - thank you!!


	6. [DAY SIX (OR WAS IT STILL FIVE?)]

Caleb stirred at the sound of a sharp knock against his door. He hadn’t quite succumbed to sleep yet – he had been reading in bed, and must have dozed off – but he nevertheless had to snap himself back to attention. With the Tomb Takers seemingly docile for the moment, the Nein had taken to sleeping again in their own beds or smaller groups if so preferred. 

“Luis,” Caleb whispered as a fey cat prowled forward from the shadows of his room. “Can you check who it is?”

“It’s me.” Lucien’s voice was evident, muffled only slightly by the heavy door. “No need to get dressed on my account.”

Caleb ignored him, pulling on pants and a shirt. He whispered a few words to Luis, who darted off again into the cat tunnels, before padding to open the door. “What do you want?”

One of the eyes on Lucien’s body seemed to blink. Caleb suspected an invisible scrying orb had just vanished from his room.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see some ankle. Are you trying cause a scandal?”

“Don’t play at being coy. It doesn’t suit you.” Caleb stepped back from the door, inviting him in.

“Everything suits me,” Lucien said as he swept into the room. He glanced over it disdainfully. “I do find it interesting that even our guest rooms have more attention to detail than your own.”

“I am a simple man.”

Lucien studied him for a few moments before raising his hand again to Caleb’s cheek, gently touching where his claws had scratched earlier.

“You’ve been healed,” Lucien said quietly.

“I stopped my friends from trying to murder you all on the spot.”

“I am sorry, you know.” Lucien cupped his face again with his searing palm. “I lost control. I won’t do it again. You are far from a simple man, my dear wizard, and I hope that we can have a good relationship.”

Caleb watched Lucien’s eyes as they dipped to his lips. The tiefling’s constant pursuit of him and his obvious knowledge of the eye on his shoulder seemed to mean that he and Beau were now integral to the Nonagon’s plans, for better or for worse, and Lucien seemed determined to dominate them entirely. 

“I’ve endured worse.” Caleb tilted his head, ever so slightly, and leaned into Lucien’s palm. “I am used to men like you.”

Lucien smiled and licked his lips. “There are no other men like me.”

His tail wrapped around Caleb’s upper thigh, holding him in place. 

“I noticed my bed looked quite plain tonight,” Lucien whispered as he leaned in close. “I wasn’t sure I was meant to sleep in it anymore.”

Caleb turned his head slightly again, until he was all but nuzzling Lucien’s palm. Before the tiefling had a chance to respond, Caleb bit at the eye on his palm, sinking his teeth in until he tasted blood.

With a shout and curse, Lucien grabbed Caleb’s neck with his free hand. He applied pressure until Caleb was forced to open his mouth and heave for air. 

“Insolence,” Lucien growled as Caleb struggled against his grip. He brought his hand up for inspection. Although the red eye itself looked unharmed, blood and bruising had pooled around it like a mockery of tears. “You are a ridiculous, petty creature.”

Caleb barked out a laugh. He was aware he must look half-mad, with blood staining his teeth. “Well, it must take one to know one.”

With an impatient swipe, Lucien used his bloodied hand to rip away the shoulder of Caleb’s shirt, yanking it down until the red eye was plain for him to see.

“A gift,” Lucien murmured. His eyes flickered from Caleb’s red eye to his blue ones. “And you would waste it.”

“I waste it by not knowing,” Caleb retorted, both of his hands still trying to ease the pressure Lucien was putting against his neck. “You have kept your secrets happily to yourself.”

With a visible effort, Lucien seemed to reign himself in. He loosened his hold on Caleb, catching him as he nearly fell without Lucien’s hand to keep him upright, and let him regain his breath as he gasped for air.

“We’re going to keep trying this until we get it right,” Lucien said pleasantly, hoisting Caleb back to standing. “Join me, lend me your talents, and when you have proven your loyalty, I will share with you my knowledge.”

“No,” Caleb said, and surged forward to kiss him.

Lucien grunted, taken by surprise, although not enough to be knocked off balance as Caleb hoped. Caleb took the opportunity to push his tongue into Lucien’s open mouth, exploring the point of his fangs, before Lucien grabbed his arms hard enough to bruise and kissed back, invading Caleb’s space in turn.

“Well,” Lucien panted as they broke apart, his blood now smeared over both their mouths. “I admit I didn’t think you had it in you to commit.”

Lucien pressed forward again, and Caleb stumbled backwards, letting the tiefling pin him against the wall. Lucien’s kisses were bruising, and he started nipping and sucking at Caleb’s lips until his fangs drew blood.

“Now we are even,” Lucien whispered, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes were half-closed with pleasure as he kissed Caleb more softly, seeming to savour the moment. 

Caleb kissed back, keeping his mouth pliant, as he studied Lucien’s face. He was mostly succeeding at fighting off the cognitive dissonance. He might have fantasized about Mollymauk a few times, sure, but never in a situation like this, designed to hurt and pry.

But it was still the warm muscular arms strengthened through years of sword work that held him. It was still the network of scars across flesh, some deeper and some darker, that begged to be explored with a finger or tongue. It was still Molly’s colourful tattoos that decorated Lucien’s body, the familiar flare of the peacock’s feathers that usually vanished under the collar of a shirt or coat.

So Caleb was well aware that he was half-hard, his cock starting to swell against the trousers that he had thrown on before answering the door. Lucien’s answer was pressed into his hip, and the tiefling was already starting to rut against him in small, steady motions, clearly with no qualms about using Caleb how he pleased.

Caleb pulled back slightly and licked his lips, aware of how Lucien’s half-hooded eyes flickered down to watch. The tang of iron was strong.

“I would have you,” Lucien murmured. He nipped again at Caleb’s swollen lips, and when Caleb made a faint sound of protest, settled for only a few more bruising kisses before moving to lick and suck at Caleb’s neck. 

Caleb tilted his head back to allow easier access. Lucien’s fangs scraped delicately at his pulse point, and when Caleb’s breath hitched, Lucien bit and sucked until Caleb was sure he was thoroughly marked. 

Lucien had pressed a knee between Caleb’s legs and, despite his best intentions, Caleb’s hips twitched forward automatically. The friction was a welcome relief and terrible accelerant all at once. The two of them rutted against each other, trading grunts and moans, as Lucien dragged his teeth and tongue across Caleb’s collarbones, marking his shoulder until he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to the red eye.

Caleb pulled back as much as he was able against the wall, enough that Lucien glared at him with narrowed eyes. The tiefling radiated heat and intention and Caleb was starting to sweat.

“And what if I were not yours to have?” 

“Then I would take you,” Lucien growled. But he stepped back, releasing Caleb from his position against the wall, and held out his hand. 

The sudden lack of warmth was a shock. Lucien’s tail stayed curled possessively around Caleb’s upper thigh, pressed under the curve of his ass, and without it he might’ve stumbled to his knees.

Fuck, he was definitely hard. Heat pooled uncontrollably in the pit of his stomach.

Rather than take Lucien’s hand, Caleb stepped boldly forward and held the tiefling by his waist, taking his turn to press kiss after kiss against his mouth, neck, collarbones. It was messy and sloppy and he could tell that Lucien didn’t entirely enjoy it, didn’t want to be marked himself, but allowed it coming from Caleb.

“Petty,” Lucien repeated breathily as Caleb sucked hard enough to bruise on his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you can’t take it after giving it.”

Caleb slowly guided Lucien backwards until the tiefling’s knees hit the bed. With a grunt, Lucien pulled at Caleb’s thighs until he was forced to loop his hands around Lucien’s neck and his legs around his waist or lose balance entirely, and Lucien settled them both onto the bed.

“I would claim you, my dear wizard,” Lucien whispered as he raked his claws down Caleb’s back, making him arch and shudder. His hand and tail then moved in tandem, pulling down Caleb’s trousers enough to wrap his fingers around his cock while the spade of his tail pressed between his ass. “I would make you beg for me.”

Lucien started pumping with his hand purposefully loose, letting Caleb feel the warmth of his hand as he moved up and down but refusing to close or provide friction. His tail stayed firmly in place and more than once Caleb felt it catch as he rocked back and forth in jerky motions, trying to find purchase where there was none. He let out a mewl, watching as Lucien leaned forward hungrily at the noise.

Whines and whimpers began to slip through as Caleb made a filthy spectacle of himself. He tangled one hand into Lucien’s hair and the other gripped a horn as he writhed for just the barest hint of contact. Precum pooled and then dripped from his neglected head, and Caleb just wanted something, anything –

But he did not beg, always biting back the words when they tried to slip through. 

“Ask me nicely.” Lucien watched him through slitted eyes. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut and panted, hips thrusting futilely upwards, but refused to give Lucien the satisfaction. “No? Then let’s try this.”

Caleb stayed pliant, only partially by choice, as Lucien circled an arm around his torso and turned, depositing him roughly onto the bed.

With a soft grunt, Caleb rolled onto his back, using one elbow to back himself up further onto the mattress as the other hand closed around his own dick. He cried out in relief as he jerked furiously against his own hand, savouring the few strokes he managed before Lucien lunged for him. 

Lucien was quick to position himself over Caleb, using one hand to catch both of the human’s and preventing him from touching himself further. His claws caught the front of Caleb’s pants and tore through them, leaving him fully exposed, and Lucien flung the damp cloth aside carelessly. 

“What was that you said?” Lucien asked idly, watching as Caleb’s hips jerked involuntarily into the air in short, erratic thrusts. The tiefling remained on his knees and with Caleb’s pants removed, took great pleasure in slowly tearing his way through Caleb’s shirt. “That good behaviour would be rewarded?”

With the shirt gone, and Caleb entirely in the nude, Lucien then used a claw to trace gentle patterns across his skin. Sometimes he pressed harder, and Caleb gasped as blood was drawn, but other times he ghosted his fingers down the curves of Caleb’s waist or the soft parts of Caleb’s inner thighs, drawing out long groans.

“Fuck you,” Caleb hissed as he felt the tiefling cupping his balls, squeezing and playing with them in his hot hand. 

“Say please,” Lucien said in a singsong. He moved his hips to align slightly lower than Caleb’s, and with both his hands pinning Caleb in place – one still holding his wrists, the other his hip – he started thrusting between his thighs.

Caleb let out a cry and brought his knees up, hooking his ankles behind Lucien’s back to try and pull him closer, but Lucien remained steady. Caleb tried to angle his hips, show Lucien that he would open himself up if he wanted to take him, but Lucien just grinned and shook his head.

“Use your words, my dear Caleb,” Lucien said softly. 

Caleb watched the obscene imagery of the tip of the purple dick sliding back and forth between his thighs and he squeezed, eliciting a groan from the tiefling. 

Lucien’s tail curled around to rest teasingly at Caleb’s entrance again and he whimpered, his cock still devoid of attention. His blood pounded through his body and his heartbeat echoing through his ears.

“Please,” Caleb whispered, seeing how the plea made Lucien’s eyes darken further in lust. “Please, fuck me, please, _bitte_ –“

With a growl, Lucien moved his hand from Caleb’s hip to his cock as he brought their mouths crashing back together. Caleb’s groans were swallowed whole as Lucien’s calloused and scarred hands worked Caleb’s own precum up and down his shaft, timing the strokes to his own thrusting 

Caleb was dimly aware that he was riding right on the edge – that he had been on the edge for a while, teased to and fro the line but never quite managing to cross it – and he let the words stream from him nearly unfiltered now. “I’m so close, please, _bitte, bitte_ , please, Mol –, please –”

“I heard that,” Lucien growled, releasing Caleb’s cock to instead bring his hand under Caleb’s chin and force it up, exposing his neck again. Caleb cried out again and bucked his hips, chasing the sensation on his abandoned cock, but he barely had time to vocalize a complaint before Lucien wrapped his tail around his dick and starting pumping as he used his teeth again to mark Caleb neck and chest.

“Say my name.” Lucien bit into his pectoral, suckling a bruise just above the nipple, as Caleb writhed and arched beneath him. Caleb noted dimly that the tiefling was also beginning to adopt a wild, frantic pace as he worked Caleb, and his cock slipped through his thighs and started pressing insistently against Caleb’s entrance more and more often.

“Lick,” Lucien commanded, thrusting his fingers into Caleb’s mouth, and Caleb complied eagerly, coating each finger with his saliva. Lucien then wasted no time penetrating into Caleb’s tight ring of muscle, ignoring the groans and whimpers as he quickly worked his way from one finger to three.

Caleb writhed, every inch of his body overstimulated and taxed. His wrists and shoulders were sore from being held above his head for so long and his neck and chest were surely an absurd tapestry of Lucien’s marks. The hot tip of the spade was rubbing so deliciously against the head of his own cock, and as Lucien grazed a claw against his prostate, Caleb howled and spilled immediately, fire racing through his veins as he came once – twice – until he was wrung dry by Lucien’s tail, still milking him until he whimpered.

Lucien released Caleb once he was done shaking, allowing him to curl slightly and rub at his sore wrists and shoulders. He was trembling, but triumphant, and well aware of how Lucien watched him still.

Caleb smirked. “I’ve had better.” 

Lucien growled and yanked at him, pulling him close before flipping him onto his stomach. Caleb put up as much of a struggle as he was able but as Lucien tugged him into position, his cock again pressing up insistently at his entrance, Caleb arched his back expectantly.

Lucien was – careful would be the wrong word, but controlled, perhaps, pushing in slowly, pausing not for Caleb’s grunts of discomfort but to maximize his own pleasure until he let out a breathy groan at being fully sheathed. His two hands were at Caleb’s hips and his tail curled forward again to hold Caleb’s spent cock – a gesture that Caleb would find tender if the overstimulation did not pain him.

“I will have you,” Lucien said, moving slowly at first, his voice low and full of desire. “And I will use you.”

When Caleb didn’t respond, Lucien drew back and snapped forward, drawing out a choked gasp. 

Lucien then set a relentless pace, driving his hips in and out to the filthy slap of skin on skin as Caleb whimpered and groaned breathily, edging him on. His own cock stirred half back to life again, but Lucien was rapidly losing control, slamming their hips together at a frantic pace while his tail moved jerkily around Caleb’s cock.

“Say my name,” Lucien growled again, but Caleb could hear the small stutter in his voice and instead squeezed tightly and pushed back as hard as he was able, driving back against Lucien with equal force. With a string of choked curses, Caleb could feel Lucien spill into him, pounding relentlessly until he was entirely spent.

“Next time,” Lucien groused. He was far from tender as he withdrew from Caleb, but the bite had gone out of his voice. “Next time, you will say my name.”

Caleb would count that as a victory. Before he passed out, he felt Lucien pull them both onto their sides, a warm arm and tail still draped over him possessively.


	7. [DAY SIX]

“The others should know,” Caduceus said quietly as he passed his hands over Caleb’s skin, tender and gentle where Lucian had been rough. The bruises and bites all faded away under the gentle glow of the Wildmother’s magic.

“This was my business.”

Caduceus always had a talent for showing disapproval without saying a single word. As his hand passed over Caleb’s chest, Caleb grabbed it and pressed it against his heart.

“You know that Lucien cannot have me,” Caleb said with a smile. “And now he does too. I belong to the Mighty Nein.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the previous chapter! Porn has never been my strong suit but this was so fun to write. 
> 
> As ever, I appreciate every hit, bookmark, comment, kudos, etc - thank you!! I hope you're all enjoying the fic!


	8. [DAY SEVEN]

Caleb floated through the central pillar. Lucien had largely left him alone the past two days, focusing his efforts on Beau instead, but each night the purple tiefling knocked at his door and they fought and fucked until they were satisfied. Caleb gave as good as he got, biting and clawing with blunt human teeth and nails as they traded insults. He could tell Lucien enjoyed the challenge in this form, trying to dominate him entirely, and it bled over into the days as the purple tiefling whistled around the tower in a good mood.

Frumpkin met him on the eighth floor with a meow and wound himself through and around his legs, letting him know that no one had attempted access to this floor since he had last shown his friends around.

Caleb hesitated.

There was little to be gained from dwelling in these rooms, but still he pushed open the door to the fourth chamber. He touched the rumpled bed – this was Astrid’s room from their time at the Soltryce Academy, and he thought he knew the exact day this memorialized – before sitting in the chair and letting himself get lost in his thoughts.

Knowing that if the Nein succeeded here in stopping Lucien, which they must, they would still have to return and confront the Assembly – confess or hide away their role in Vess DeRogna’s demise – was something that weighed heavier on Caleb than he would like to admit. It felt like the past few weeks of his life had been about seeing ghosts.

Veth had suggested last night that they contact Astrid and Eadwulf. The Nein were seeking to rally the troops, pull in anyone who might help them with this fight. Caleb thought that Astrid and Wulf would certainly be keen to intervene, but it was too likely that their motivations would have the Assembly in mind. Bringing the might of the Assembly down on Aeor was out of the question.

Astrid and Eadwulf were once Caleb’s dearest and most intimate of companions. But they had changed – and Caleb had changed – and now they had spent more years apart than together and Caleb feared they were only Trent Ikithon’s weapons. 

Seeing them again so recently had sparked an odd sensation. Caleb almost missed his old paranoia. He had been so sure, once, just like Astrid and Eadwulf still were. And now after all this time with the Nein – his friends, his new family – he knew he had regained a lot of his old confidence. He was becoming decisive again, confident that his path was the right one, but sometimes he wondered if a questioning and dissenting inner voice might be necessary.

Caleb found himself circling around the same questions. He thought he was relatively decided about Lucien – and each night with him only strengthened his resolve – but could he kill Astrid and Eadwulf if it meant saving the world? Would he be willing to watch them burn if they seemed beyond redemption?

Was a world without them worth saving? Part of him thought immediately of Veth and her unwavering loyalty to him. He thought of her son, Luc. Of course the world would be worth saving. There were children who had a future. They were more important than creatures like him and Astrid and Eadwulf who had killed, over and over, under the guise of righteousness.

Astrid’s voice echoed in his memory: _“I also know the reason that we get to sleep every night in a comfortable inn bed or in a manor has to do with the many families and children, just like we were, just like the families we once had, that don’t have to make the choices we did. They still get to live happily and comfortably, because the few, the chosen few, made the hard choice, and do what few have the will to do.”_

Caleb moved from the chair to the bed and lay down. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the whiff of Astrid’s hair and the chime of her laugh. He poured over the image of her in his mind – her new scars, some from fire, some from _his_ fire – and her keen-eyed vision of the future. And although their paths were different – Caleb thought that perhaps their futures were not entirely disparate.

In either case, Astrid did not seek to be redeemed. She was steadfast. 

So steadfast too must Caleb be.


	9. [DAY EIGHT]

“I found the tea you left behind,” Caleb said quietly to Caduceus as they underwent their new early morning ritual. Lucien had been surprisingly gentle last night, but even then had still split open Caleb’s lip and left dark bruises on his hips. “In my childhood home, upstairs. Thank you. One day I will brew it and enjoy it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

When the healing was finished, Caduceus picked up his own pot of morning tea and poured them both a cup. “We may not be able to change the past, but we can change our perceptions of it. We can make new meanings and be more gentle to our past selves. I hope having that tea in that room will bring you a peace that you didn’t have before. I hope you realize how far you’ve come.”

“I have been thinking,” Caleb said, taking a sip of his tea as Caduceus nodded along slowly. “You didn’t know Mollymauk, of course, but he was a wild creature – he never once minded that he didn’t know his past. Even though I knew him only for a few short months, I feel as though I got to know him whole-heartedly. He was open like that.”

“Many people are.”

“Not me.” 

“Not you,” Caduceus agreed. Caleb gave a wry grin.

“I’ve come to realize that in the grand scheme of things, Mollymauk did not know me very well. The person I am now, I had to grow into him slowly and painfully. I wish he could see me.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of you.”

Caleb smiled. “I’m sure he’d still tell me to cut my self-flagellating bullshit. But yes, I think he might be.”

* * *

The Tomb Takers were not at breakfast. 

Then Fjord poked his head into the dining hall, asking if anyone had seen the Bag of Holding.

When the Mighty Nein finally threw open the door to the tower in a panic, sunshine illuminated the landscape. The banks of white snow and blue sky were blinding after a week of dreary gray. 

And leading away from the doors of the tower, into the distant horizon, were five pairs of footprints pressed into the clean, fresh snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end - thank you so much for reading and sharing this with me! I have so much love for this fire wizard and I'm glad to get some of my feelings out in this work. Feel free to drop me a message at my [tumblr](https://burningdarkfire.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat!
> 
> As always, I appreciate every hit, bookmark, comment, kudos, etc - thank you!! 🔥🔥


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